


Viking Braids

by maximumsuckage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Hair Braiding, LARPing, M/M, Renaissance Faires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 11:55:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13410729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maximumsuckage/pseuds/maximumsuckage
Summary: Charlie dragged Sam and Dean to her latest battle.  Gabriel uses his old Viking god experience to help Sam out with his costume.





	Viking Braids

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the tumblr prompt by @nathyfaith: I hereby demand a cute drabble or fic of Gabe doing Sam's hair Viking style, and Dean totally jealous because his little brother looks so badass!

“Sit down.”  

At the sudden voice, Sam whirled around, but the knife in his hand was nothing but rubber, useless against an assailant.  But it was only instinct; he was lowering the blade even as he turned, recognizing the voice as easily as he recognized Dean’s.  “Gabe.  What’s up?”

Gabriel sprawled on the faux fur blankets in the corner of the tent, one leg bent, one leg stretched out, underneath the Stark flag that someone had gotten from an HBO store.  He was looking Sam up and down slowly, gold eyes sliding languidly over the hunter’s body.  “What’s with all this?” he asked, waving a hand towards the general surroundings.  “Did we accidentally travel in time, or is this a Renaissance Fair?”

Sam smoothed down his tunic, feeling suddenly very naked under Gabriel’s eyes.  Not that he minded, but Gabriel looked like he was enjoying the view a bit too much.  “No. Charlie needed a couple more people for her campaign, and she insisted that we were the only ones available.” He shrugged slightly.  “Somehow, I get the feeling we’re only here because Dean’s a huge dork.”

Gabriel chuckled.  “Says the guy wearing tights.”

Sam glared at him, and smoothed down the tunic again.  “It’s not tights.  Charlie gave me the costume.  I’m just…”

“It’s hot,” Gabriel assured him, sitting up on the pelt and crossing his legs.  “If anything, the tunic’s too long.  Can’t see any of the fun parts.”

The bitchface Sam gave the archangel was enough to melt glass.  

“Oh, c’mon, Sammich.” Gabriel patted the ground in front of him.  “Sit. I’ll finish it up for you.”  

“Finish what up?”  Sam didn’t trust the archangel, sitting there on the wolf pelt, looking up at him all innocently from under his lashes. There was nothing innocent about Gabriel.  Even the most chaste, innocent kiss left Sam’s skin on fire.  

Gabriel just pat the ground again, and Sam sighed, before sinking down in front of the archangel.  “I don’t know- what are you doing?”

Fingers were tugging at his hair, carding through to smooth out the tangles.  “Oh, hush, Sam I Am.  You forgot to do your hair.  Were you even alive in that time?  No.  I was.  Tilt your head back.”

Sam obeyed, folding his hands in his lap, while Gabriel stood on his knees behind him, tugging on the strands of his hair.  His fingers were gentle, the movements smooth.  There was silence between them for a moment, and Sam felt himself start to relax.  For once, it didn’t seem like Gabriel had an ulterior motive, though Sam was just a bit worried about what his hair would look like when the archangel finished whatever he was doing.  

“Last time I did this,” Gabriel murmured, curling a strand around his fingers, “was for Thor.  His hair was longer, but it’s the same thing. Figured, since you can hold his hammer, you noble hero you.”  He punched Sam’s arm.

Sam hummed under his breath. “I told you before, that wasn’t that important.  It just showed up at some auction-”

“And you used it to smash someone.”  Gabriel leaned close, so his body was pressed against Sam’s back.  One hand was still twisted in Sam’s hair.  “That’s hot.”

Sam tried not to think about the archangel pressed against him.  He had to meet Dean in a moment, and there was certainly no time to even consider the breath on his ear, the warmth of the hand tangled in his hair.  Gabriel drew in a breath, and Sam waited, silent, for whatever dirty thing the archangel would have to tell him.  

“I need,” he murmured, “a hairband.”

Sam let out a breath.  “I don’t have one.”

There was a snap of fingers, and then Gabriel was tugging on Sam’s hair again, and it was a pleasant feeling, like he was the one being petted.  No wonder dogs liked it.  

Then Gabriel’s hands slid down Sam’s neck, to his shoulders, fingers pressing into his shoulders.  “You seem tense,” he murmured, and Sam, despite himself, pushed him away.

“Not right now,” he said. “I need to meet with Dean.”  He stood up, though he wanted nothing more than to sink back down.  “Did you want to come?”

Gabriel let out a laugh at that. “Please.  I lived through the medieval times.  I don’t need to play pretend medieval times.”  But he lounged back on the pelt.  “Come see me when you’re done hitting people with foam swords, and I can show you how medieval people really show their love.”  He winked.  

Sam just rolled his eyes. “Why do I think that involves burying plague victims or picking fleas off each other?”

“My fleas are sexy!”  

But Sam had already stepped outside, where Charlie and Dean were waiting.  Dean whistled, and tapped the side of his head.  “Dude, how’d you do that?”

“Do what?”  Sam tugged down the hem of his tunic, uncomfortable with the chilly air on his tights.  

“Your hair.”  Charlie said, frowning.  “I think I saw it on Pinterest once.”  She broke into a grin.  “Dean, you didn’t say he liked to braid his hair.”

Dean made a face and ran a hand through his own hair.  “Damn. For the first time in my life, I kinda wish I had longer hair.”

“I… what did he do?”  Sam touched the side of his head, feeling a plait rather than the normal loose strands.  

Charlie pulled out her phone, switching it to the camera so he could see the intricate plait that his hair had been woven into.  A few strands of gold tangled through the braids, glinting in the sunlight, tying the loose ends together.  Sam stared at the picture of the back of his own head.  “Oh.  That wasn’t me.”

“Then who-” Charlie started, but Dean answered quickly.  

“He’s been seeing Gabe.”

“The archangel?” Charlie beamed. “Is he here?”

Sam tore his eyes away from the image of his hair.  “He said he’s lived through this before.  But he usually responds to food, so if you offer…whatever medieval thing they’re selling here.”

Charlie looked around, at all the other people walking past in tunics and wizard robes.  “That wench is selling caramel apples-”

“Did somebody say wenches and caramel apples?”  

Sam almost fell when Gabriel appeared on top of him, legs wrapped around his hips.  He was the only one wearing jeans in the entire field.  “Sammich, I heard that there were wenches and caramel apples.”  He leaned close, hugging the hunter around his neck.  “I want three of each.”

“The wench isn’t for sale,” Charlie pointed out.

Gabriel blinked.  “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Gabe,” Sam said.

There was silence for a moment. “Is Sam for sale?” Gabriel asked.

Dean and Charlie exchanged a look, then Charlie smiled.  “You can have him for free if you do my hair too.”


End file.
